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"You're pretty tired, ain't ye?" he asked with strong sympathy. "It do sorter seem as if you had more'n your share sometimes, Lucy it do, certain sure!" "I'd just give up if 'twa'n't for you and Marry," she returned wearily, crouching in a forlorn heap, with elbows on knees and chin in palms. "It's hard enough for women that's got their own young ones, and can mind 'em and make 'em mind.
I guess there is a good deal of romance about their old times; and that, if we knowed all, their old lairds warn't much better, or much richer than our Ingian chiefs; much of a muchness. Kinder sorter so, and kinder sorter not so, no great odds. Both hardy, both fierce; both as poor as Job's Turkey, and both tarnation proud, at least, that's my idea to a notch.
"I suppose I might as well earn a bit," I admitted, hesitatingly. "Only I had about decided I'd enlist, if the war was still going on when we got up there." "That'll be all right. We'll keep yer busy til' then, enyhow. Go on down below now, an' eat, an' when yer git through, climb up the ladder, an' report ter me. What'll I call yer?" "Steve." "Steve hey; sorter handy man, ain't yer?"
"Off our port quarter." "Then that's 'bout where she is maybe a mile, er so." "What about the crew?" "They got away in the boats, an' likely mostly are ashore. We were in the last boat launched, an' headed out so far ter get 'round a ledge o' rocks, we got lost in the fog. Then the mist sorter opened, an' give us a glimpse o' yer topsails.
A young man stood outside in the starlight. "Well, Jack Burley, you old son of a gun!" drawled Glenn. "Gawd! You look fit for a dead one!" "We ain’t told her!" whispered Smith. "She an’ us done in a Fritz this evening, an’ it sorter turned Maryette’s stomach " "Not that she ain’t well," explained Glenn hastily; "only a girl feels different.
"Oh, I am so glad, uncle; I cannot tell you how glad I am." The captain shuffled awkwardly on his feet. "I'm more than glad," he said. "I'm sorter proud." He pulled down his coat and walked to the window. "Yes," he said, looking out into the street. "That's it. I'm proud. It's a great gift writin'. A great gift." Eve laughed. "Oh!" she answered. "I'm afraid that I have no gift.
It had a big door an' wooden sides that could be tuck off or left on, an' Dill advised Alf to buy it an' turn gypsy, an' roam about tradin' here an' yan. But Alf got the thing at his own bid, an' sorter sneered as he writ down the price on the scrap of paper in his hand." "For Heaven's sake, what fool caper did he cut next?" Mrs. Henley demanded, in a tone of impatience.
"You are an American cruiser, I presume?" continued Captain Staunton, looking first at the beautifully kept decks, and then more doubtfully at the gang of desperadoes who crowded round. "Sorter," briefly replied the man who had called himself Johnson; and the reply seemed for some reason to mightily tickle his crew, most of whom burst into a hearty guffaw.
"Light or dark?" "Heh?" "Is her hair light or dark colored?" "Middlin'; jes' middlin', miss." "Well, is she stout or thin?" "I should say sorter betwixt an' between, miss." "How old is Lucy?" "Jes' turned eighteen, miss." "Never mind, Beth," interrupted the boy; "you won't learn much from old Will's description. But we'll see what can be done tomorrow.
We read and walked and talked a heap together. He knew about all the poetry that was ever written, I reckon, and he used to quote it to me along shore in the evenings. Dad thought it an awful waste of time, but he sorter endured it, hoping it'd put me off the notion of going to sea. Well, nothing could do THAT mother come of a race of sea-going folk and it was born in me.
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